This is a classroom. Poorly air-conditioned, it is hot as hell, and it reeks of sweat. There are boring white tables with metal legs, and upon every table there are four Unix computers with funny names. The windows are barred for security, and there is a metal filming on them. I suppose there are twenty to fifty computers here. Everybody pretends to work, but actually they're on IRC. Video surveillance.
These are birch trees, these are. Not so big, anyway. Typical forest birches. Some spruce trees, too. And I think I saw a pine somewhere... nope, that was in the computer classroom. There are so much trees in here that I feel quite uncomfortable. Even their branches interlock: you couldn't possibly fell one of these, as the branches are so tangled that it would remain dangling there, suspended from the other trees.
It is a playground slide of shit, and it is absolutely untreadable-upon. This is a steep slope, and should I step on the path I would immediately start gliding and eventually fall on my ass, before bumping into a tree at fifty miles per hour. I suppose nobody walks in this shit: the path must have been made on some very hot and dry summer. It is some two feet wide, and one foot deep.
It is a ditch, and it stinks. Its muddy brown water flows very slowly, and a mildew-grown bra is lazily sailing in it.
It used to be a bottle of beer, but it has been smashed into smithereens. The remains of it still carry the scent of urine, and the nostalgia arising thereof makes me weep like a child.
It is an Abloy key: it has a flat pentagonal head with a hexagonal opening in it, its cross-section is a semicircle, and the slots are carved as cylindrical sectors with their points in the centerline of the key's main body. It must be the key of an apartment.